I am walking along the side of the road, unsure of which way to go for my next meal. Well, it’s not that I have no idea where my next meal is coming from. I just haven’t figured which way to go. I reach the main road, still quite unsure. The default dining place is a small eatery just opposite to where I stand. It’s called ‘Karpagam Hot Spot’, and it is quite hot inside. I look around a little bit, trying to decide what to do. I see another hotel beside my Hot Spot. That’s the one I used to go to, before what has now become of me. And then there is ‘Hot Chips’ (oh yes!!! Everything is HOT around here…) which is about two kilometers from where I stand. Hmmm. Nah! It’s too stressful! Come to think of it, there’s ‘Woodlands’ just round the next corner and it’s pretty decent, but I really hate the ambience, and the service. The guy takes one year to bring two naans and a plate of dal. Of course there’s ‘Delhi Chat’ which is another half kilometer from where I stand. That’s quite good too. I used to go there as well. As a matter of fact, I used to order food regularly from the guy, until he started screwing up the deliveries. He forgot that there is a poor soul lying here, in the recesses of nature, waiting for his kindness. He just wouldn’t deliver. And suddenly I found myself calling him up everyday screaming my head off in hunger. At the end of the month, I paid him his due, cursed him till I was satisfied, and then vowed to myself that I would never set foot on the land of that ungrateful wretch. And I am not going to break that vow. Rejected. ‘Food Fiesta’ comes up a little further away from ‘Delhi Chat’. But that’s too further up. Nah!
All options exhausted, I start towards my ‘Hot Spot’. There’s quite a lot of traffic and I stand at the edge of the road, waiting for the signal to go Red. It’s quite frustrating, you know, when you want that thing to turn red, and it just wouldn’t change, and the traffic keeps coming and coming and coming! Slowly the traffic starts widening, and I get pushed backwards more and more. I keep looking at the signal every other second. Finally! It’s Red! I walk like a king on the road that’s empty of all traffic for the moment.
I walk up the steps of my Hot Spot. I shall have to first pay the money, get the token, and give the token to the cook at the far end, who immediately cooks up whatever is printed on my token. I stand in the queue for the token. I look up at the menu list on the top of the wall, trying to decide what to eat today. I must confess; there is no item on that list I haven’t tried. Today it’s the turn of ‘Oru Plate Idli, oru kal dosai’. And so I walk up to the cook with my future idli and kal dosai in hand. I give him the token and he acknowledges. I sit at a table and wait.
He gives me the idli within a moment. I sit down to eat. I am not supposed to eat any pulippu because of my current stomach condition; the doctor’s advice. I am suffering from amoebic dysentery, yet again. By now I have gotten used to that feeling of utter weakness, heavy-headedness and unshakeable sleep. Coming back to the point, I finish my idli and wait in line for the kal dosai.
It’s really difficult to say who is at fault, but what happens next is why I am writing this whole story. I stand waiting for my kal dosai, while another gentleman is eating away at a plain dosai, and, as I am to learn later, waiting for an oothappam. The guy at the counter brings out two plates. One has two small dosais with chutney and sambar, while the other has one larger dosai. No one seems to be interested in either of them. I am pretty sure that one of them is mine. I just didn’t know which one. I move forward to ask the guy for my order. But before I can say anything, he looks at me and nods, as if to ask me what is it that I had ordered. There’s quite a din there, the kitchen being right beside us. And so, not wanting to scream, I mouth the words ‘Kal Dosai’. He points a finger in the direction of the two plates. I go back. Now is where everything went awry.
I look at the two plates, not able to identify the kal dosai from the other ‘thing’. I keep looking for a long moment, trying to reason out which one it should logically be. There is one plate with two dosais and another with just one. I am aware that I have ordered only one dosai, so the one with the two dosais surely doesn’t seem to be my order. I have ordered for only one! So with sound logical reasoning, I reach out and take the place with one dosai. I sit at another table and start feasting. After a few moments, I see the waiter walking around, looking for a customer who has ordered ‘kal dosai’. That’s me!!! I look down at my plate to see what it is that I am eating. The guy to whom I had asked for my order, directs the waiter to my table.
I am sitting at my table, like a jack ass, looking back and forth between the plate and the waiter. ‘Athu kal dosai aana ithu enna?!!!’ ‘Athu oothappam, sir!’. The guy I mentioned before, the one who was eating away at his plain dosai; this guy has ordered a plain oothappam and is waiting rather impatiently. I look at him and say rather dumbly, ‘Sorry sir, plate maathi iduthuten…’. ‘Oh, neenga thaana antha plate iduthathu!’ I don’t know how to react to that comment, so I force a smile. I guess my face says it all, for he looks away from me and goes back to the counter asking for his order. The guy at the counter, is equally angry. ‘Avar plate maathi iduthutaar, saar! Avarukku pota kal dosai inga irukku! Avaru onga oothappam iduthutaar !!!’. The people around start following this conversation rather closely, like vultures who move in on their prey; alone and spent. I do not dare to look around, for they might see through me; see the emotions churning the inside of me like a concrete mixture; see my face which surely would have turned pink by now. I say again, more dumbly than before, ‘sorry sir! Maathi iduthuten…’. Nobody says anything. Maybe they are too shocked to see someone of such intellectual ability, as to mistake an oothappam for a kal dosai.
I look back at the plate. There is a half dosai, half oothappam to be more precise, still there. I curse the oothappam for coming into existence at the same exact moment that my kal dosai did. I do not hear from them anymore. They continue packing more food for more waiting customers, and stare at me with rage in their eyes. I look away from them for the third time, and eat faster. I pick up the last piece of oothappam and simultaneously get up from the chair. The wash basin, that blasted thing, is right next to the same counter! I shall have to walk all the way back.
I start walking towards the wash basin, slowly at first, as if by doing that, I shall be somehow to restore the lost dignity. Halfway down, I make a break for it, no longer able to stand the dozen-or-so eyes staring at me continuously. I half wash my hands and almost run back out of the hotel.
Reaching home, I breathe a sigh of relief. I might have as well gone for the dozen other options I listed before. But I guess this just had to happen! I calculate that I have cost him an oothappam and a kal dosai, and one angry customer.
Well, that’s me.
All options exhausted, I start towards my ‘Hot Spot’. There’s quite a lot of traffic and I stand at the edge of the road, waiting for the signal to go Red. It’s quite frustrating, you know, when you want that thing to turn red, and it just wouldn’t change, and the traffic keeps coming and coming and coming! Slowly the traffic starts widening, and I get pushed backwards more and more. I keep looking at the signal every other second. Finally! It’s Red! I walk like a king on the road that’s empty of all traffic for the moment.
I walk up the steps of my Hot Spot. I shall have to first pay the money, get the token, and give the token to the cook at the far end, who immediately cooks up whatever is printed on my token. I stand in the queue for the token. I look up at the menu list on the top of the wall, trying to decide what to eat today. I must confess; there is no item on that list I haven’t tried. Today it’s the turn of ‘Oru Plate Idli, oru kal dosai’. And so I walk up to the cook with my future idli and kal dosai in hand. I give him the token and he acknowledges. I sit at a table and wait.
He gives me the idli within a moment. I sit down to eat. I am not supposed to eat any pulippu because of my current stomach condition; the doctor’s advice. I am suffering from amoebic dysentery, yet again. By now I have gotten used to that feeling of utter weakness, heavy-headedness and unshakeable sleep. Coming back to the point, I finish my idli and wait in line for the kal dosai.
It’s really difficult to say who is at fault, but what happens next is why I am writing this whole story. I stand waiting for my kal dosai, while another gentleman is eating away at a plain dosai, and, as I am to learn later, waiting for an oothappam. The guy at the counter brings out two plates. One has two small dosais with chutney and sambar, while the other has one larger dosai. No one seems to be interested in either of them. I am pretty sure that one of them is mine. I just didn’t know which one. I move forward to ask the guy for my order. But before I can say anything, he looks at me and nods, as if to ask me what is it that I had ordered. There’s quite a din there, the kitchen being right beside us. And so, not wanting to scream, I mouth the words ‘Kal Dosai’. He points a finger in the direction of the two plates. I go back. Now is where everything went awry.
I look at the two plates, not able to identify the kal dosai from the other ‘thing’. I keep looking for a long moment, trying to reason out which one it should logically be. There is one plate with two dosais and another with just one. I am aware that I have ordered only one dosai, so the one with the two dosais surely doesn’t seem to be my order. I have ordered for only one! So with sound logical reasoning, I reach out and take the place with one dosai. I sit at another table and start feasting. After a few moments, I see the waiter walking around, looking for a customer who has ordered ‘kal dosai’. That’s me!!! I look down at my plate to see what it is that I am eating. The guy to whom I had asked for my order, directs the waiter to my table.
I am sitting at my table, like a jack ass, looking back and forth between the plate and the waiter. ‘Athu kal dosai aana ithu enna?!!!’ ‘Athu oothappam, sir!’. The guy I mentioned before, the one who was eating away at his plain dosai; this guy has ordered a plain oothappam and is waiting rather impatiently. I look at him and say rather dumbly, ‘Sorry sir, plate maathi iduthuten…’. ‘Oh, neenga thaana antha plate iduthathu!’ I don’t know how to react to that comment, so I force a smile. I guess my face says it all, for he looks away from me and goes back to the counter asking for his order. The guy at the counter, is equally angry. ‘Avar plate maathi iduthutaar, saar! Avarukku pota kal dosai inga irukku! Avaru onga oothappam iduthutaar !!!’. The people around start following this conversation rather closely, like vultures who move in on their prey; alone and spent. I do not dare to look around, for they might see through me; see the emotions churning the inside of me like a concrete mixture; see my face which surely would have turned pink by now. I say again, more dumbly than before, ‘sorry sir! Maathi iduthuten…’. Nobody says anything. Maybe they are too shocked to see someone of such intellectual ability, as to mistake an oothappam for a kal dosai.
I look back at the plate. There is a half dosai, half oothappam to be more precise, still there. I curse the oothappam for coming into existence at the same exact moment that my kal dosai did. I do not hear from them anymore. They continue packing more food for more waiting customers, and stare at me with rage in their eyes. I look away from them for the third time, and eat faster. I pick up the last piece of oothappam and simultaneously get up from the chair. The wash basin, that blasted thing, is right next to the same counter! I shall have to walk all the way back.
I start walking towards the wash basin, slowly at first, as if by doing that, I shall be somehow to restore the lost dignity. Halfway down, I make a break for it, no longer able to stand the dozen-or-so eyes staring at me continuously. I half wash my hands and almost run back out of the hotel.
Reaching home, I breathe a sigh of relief. I might have as well gone for the dozen other options I listed before. But I guess this just had to happen! I calculate that I have cost him an oothappam and a kal dosai, and one angry customer.
Well, that’s me.
1 comment:
he he...[:)] thats a riveting story. but how could you not distinguish between a dosa and oothappam !
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